Tomorrow is the first day of spring! Officially, anyway. I'm sure Mother Nature has a few more tricks up her sleeve for us but that little turn of the calendar makes a lot of difference in how we view that weather. At least it does for me.
F.Y.I.--it's a real challenge to condense the essential bones of a 305-page novel into one single-spaced page. A challenge, yeah, that's the word, a challenge. No strong adjectives needed. If you say it with your teeth gritted tightly enough no adjectives are needed.
March 19--Umberto Boccioni, The Street Enters the House. Progress was coming but no one loved it. No one except the young men with big city dreams of shiny chrome and the empty-eyed women who came with it. Noise had replaced the soothing clop of cart horses. Men, shouting men with shovels and picks, had turned the street to rubble, tearing it up for an automobile garage. They hauled off the smooth stone pavers and flung them into a pit behind the foreman's country house and sank red clay pipes to carry away the rain. Men with sledge hammers broke up the trough that caught rain and provided water for balcony geraniums all over the neighborhood. Do they think of no one but themselves?
This makes me happy. I like what I've extracted from the cubist chaos of today's painting. See you tonight, Jennifer. We'll be thinking of you, Jenny. Hope all goes well tomorrow.
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment